A quiet moment gathers itself around me
As I stare at pixels looking among them
For something great and compelling to write about.
But there is no wisdom tonight, no passion,
I am even empty of the need to cry for change.

I grow so tired as the quiet closes tighter,
Drowning out life by calling for sleep.
I drift  away and dreams of great themes come to
Me like old friends calling  to talk over coffee.

They are around me and we laugh,
Some make me cry, others...
Well, there are others too and I feel in tune with them
As I  never am awake.

They listen to me judging the worth of my insight.
Some smile, others chuckle and scratch their heads
As I try to fit in knowing I never will
Even though I will always try.
God, I love what I think I can make of them.

There is a nudge on my thigh,
They fade away as I wake then they are gone.
There is only me, the empty screen and my dog
Whose world is defined by where I am,
He brought me back to toss his ball.

My themes are lost in Morpheus' mists
They will be back one at a time and I will write
Inadequately of wonderful things with high meanings

Until them, I make these crooked marks for you...
Because, it seems, my world is defined
By where you can find my words.